Tag: dating blog

The Spaniard

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

It started off much like every other Tinder/Bumble/Hinge/CoffeeMeetsBagel/OKCupid/Match/EHarmony/TheLeague romance story… We matched, we chatted for a day and we met in person. AAAAAHHH, modern romance!!! Again, I was less than hopeful and also, no longer excited to meet men from any dating apps or sites. I meet enough dicks day to day who think they’re hot shit. Why do I willingly enter into these “dating” situations anymore? For the love of dogs, someone help me.

His dating app name was Matt. I only learned later that he calls himself that on these apps instead of using his actual name, Marco, because American women are racist and think that people from foreign countries are “stupid” because they have accents since English is their second language. This was interesting to me since I find people who learn English, but are fluent in other languages, are more intelligent and educated than the vast majority of people born and raised in the United States who can barely properly formulate a sentence in their native tongue. If I see one more Trump-loving, trout-catching, Budweiser-loving, Nascar-watching, American flag-humping white dude on Tinder, I’m going to scream. They’re nearly as bad as the trust fund-having, pastel-wearing, finance major, frat boys who live in River North and hang out in the West Loop and have only traveled to Cancun or back to the burbs/Wisconsin/Nebraska/Iowa/Indiana to visit mom and dad. Basically, if you learned this crock of shit English language and have immersed yourself in a different country/culture, I find you more interesting than the American guys I usually meet when I go out.

Marco had only lived in Chicago a few months so our deal was, I pick the place and he pays since he doesn’t know a lot of places in the city. Many girls might be total assholes in this situation and pick Alinea for dinner and then The Aviary for a couple cocktails. I’m not that asshole. We just met at Aire for some drinks. It was the end of summer and still gorgeous, so we might as well take advantage of the weather and spend some time outside. I actually went home, showered and changed my clothes before this meeting, rather than coming straight from work, covered in hair, with smeared makeup. I slammed a glass of wine and took a Lyft down to meet him after I got ready. He was there before I arrived and he also made an attempt to look like a decent human being. He was tall and tan with a shaved head, wearing a blazer and a button-down with the top two buttons undone.

I broke my rule again and had three drinks with him instead of my “two drinks and bail” routine. He was fun. He was nice. He was a gentleman. He was smart. He was attractive. He also told me he’s only interested in meeting friends and is not wanting a relationship. I didn’t think I was wanting to meet anyone for anything serious either because what would happen to my blog if I met a boyfriend anyway!? Still, after hearing this, I felt less attracted to him. There wasn’t necessarily a wall between us after this; it was more like a screen. I put my guard up and definitely was not going to let this go further than a friendship but I was interested in hanging out with him again.

It was early and we wore out every view of Aire so we moved on to meet his friend at Untitled. His friend was from Minnesota but he was fluent in Spanish and had an accent like a native Argentinian apparently. My Spaniard paid at Aire so I bought a round for him, his friend and myself at Untitled. There was a blues band this night and they were killing it. We would have stayed longer than for one drink but this Minnesota youngster friend of his was poor and insisted we go somewhere closer to where he lived that was cheaper. Where, might you ask?? None other than Nisei Lounge. This was NOT my idea (I fucking swear!!) but he lived across the street and who am I to argue with going to the finest establishment in all of Wrigley?? Also, I want to know when I’m going to start getting paid by Nisei and Malort for all the promoting I do for them.

The three of us on a “date” now, took a car to the bar and decided playing a game of pool was in the cards for the night. My regular billiards pal happened to be there, highly intoxicated, as usual. He and I may or may not have drunkenly flirted and made out once or twice this summer so he felt especially inclined to cock block me from the Spaniard all night. He insisted that we be partners while playing, as we always were. This time I denied him and opted to pair up with Marco instead.

I couldn’t tell you which team won the game that night but it was entertaining to see two men fighting for my affection in a game of pool. Guys, if you think that’s the way to my heart or vagina, you’re sadly mistaken… I might be cheap and easy like McDonald’s but not THAT cheap and easy. Impress me with more than your pool stick, k?

I’m not sure if that’s what they were after or if it was just a battle of egos really. Sadly, I think they both lost in the end because I forced all three of the guys to do shots of Malort and none of them got laid. Lose, lose situation there unless you’re a Malort fan! Based on their Malort faces after the shots, I’d say I was the only one who won that night.

As the night was coming to an end, my regular make-out buddy and pool partner blacked out and disappeared and the young, poor, Minnesota boy peaced out too. It was just me and my Spaniard, who I would totally make out with but could never seriously date. He’s a gentleman so he walked me home and by “home” I mean the corner between my place and the bar, where we made out for an uncomfortably long time and he slipped his finger in my underwear. Drunk people were puking, pointing and yelling as they passed us and a police officer rolled up to shine his lights on us at one point, so I removed his finger and tongue from my body and said goodnight.

He left for Spain and Morocco for three weeks shortly after we met. We tried to hang out one more time before then but were unsuccessful. He sent me a text saying:

marco

(Recovering my throat was not in reference to what he did to it with his tongue. I lose my voice a lot by being loud and obnoxious and screaming a lot when I go out…Promise!)

Buena suerte y feliz viaje, amigo.

 

Know when to fold ’em

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

I keep reading about “breadcrumbing”, which is apparently the latest “trend” in dating. Actually, I’m not seeking out information about breadcrumbing, people just won’t stop sending me links about it. It’s like they’re all trying to tell me something I don’t already know. Breadcrumbing is basically just a dick move of leading someone on for a period of time until they finally realize it and promptly fuck off like they should have a long time before. The breadcrumber might seem super into you for a bit and you feel a connection but then they disappear or seem uninterested. As soon as you are done and are ready to let them go, they do something to reel you back in.

My breadcrumber and I met after I left work and he and his friends left a Cub’s game early in the season. I walked in to a crowded Wrigley bar looking for a guy in a green shirt. That should be easy in a sea of red and Cubby blue. I spotted one heavier, older, aesthetically unpleasing gentleman in green on one side of the bar and a hottie in green at the other side. I quietly prayed to the dating gods (if they really are out there somewhere, looking down and punishing me) that the fat, old dude was not the guy I had planned to meet. The hottie shouted my name and waved me over. (Thank you this time, dating gods!) As I walked closer to him, his taller, very drunk friend grabbed my right buttcheek as I leaned in toward my green shirt-clad Tinder match for a hug. We hit it off and I got along well with all of his friends, including the buttcheek grabber. We ended up seeing each other 4 times out of 5 nights that week. It seemed like a lot to me but fuck it, we were having fun.

We both were divorced and from Detroit. He liked dive bars, cheap beer and Malort too. He was good looking with muscles and money and he liked to drink a lot. Clearly, he was just my type. He told me about his two little girls who were 4 and 6, selling his first company for 80 bajillion dollars when he was 34, and taking all of his friends out on his boat every weekend. He wanted me to immediately change my work schedule so it didn’t interfere with the boating routine, as he wanted me to accompany him every Wednesday and Saturday. He was the kind of guy who would bring his own liquor into a bar and leave his credit cards places for days at a time or lose his shoes after a night of partying. He would go out and binge drink 7 nights in a row but then was all business and sober Sally the next week for work and his daughters.

Bringing your own booze to dive bars and music venues is definitely frowned upon.

When a fuckboi is in his natural habitat, he may opt to remove his boat shoes and pastel, plaid ensemble for more comfortable attire.
 

 

Throughout the next month or so, we texted daily and updated each other on what we had going on. We didn’t see one another as often as that first week but we both had a lot going on. He had his daughters and some custody issues going on and I had work, a busy social life and the pending divorce and charges against my husband. Seeing him regularly was not vital to me so I didn’t see this as him being distant.

20170331_064108000_iOS

The times we did see each other, our friends were usually around too. I liked this, as I rely heavily on my friends’ opinions of the men I date now. This is because after over 15 years of dating, I finally realize I’m pure shit at picking guys. I need someone to tell me, “Good, girl!” or “NO! Bad, Erin!” Train me in dating the way you train a two month old puppy. I received both words of praise and encouragement with this guy, along with some warning and reprimanding. It seems my friends were about 50/50 on my selection this time which confused the shit out of me. If I was actually a puppy I think I’d be pissing in my food bowl and eating the furniture. So confused.

I decided to just ride this out and see what was going to happen. Over the next 4 months we saw each other less and less. When we did see each other I didn’t even have fun and there was little affection. We talked about the most mundane, boring things. If there was any spark before, I was slowly realizing it was gone now. I still don’t know if that’s naturally what just happens in every relationship after a while or if that spark stays forever with certain people. Maybe there’s a spark that keeps coming and going. It fades slowly and then reignites after some time. Who fucking knows. I still continued talking to him, despite realizing we would never have the relationship I thought we might when I first met him.

20170314_052027000_iOS

I think after about the fifth time you hang out with someone is when their true personality comes out. They get comfortable and forget to pretend to be someone they’re not. I started to realize he was, as one of my closest friends told me, “emotionally unavailable” and, as another friend eloquently stated, “he’s a selfish, narcissistic asshole.” Despite seeing this now, he kept reeling me back in by telling me, “I care about you so much. I hope you know that.” and “I always got your back, ya know?” I wondered why he’d bother talking to me still and saying things like that when we hadn’t seen each other in a month and hadn’t made any plans to change that any time soon. Still though, my dumb ass was willing to give it one last shot because I. Am. Not. A. Quitter.

20170519_190410885_iOS

My birthday was coming up and he asked what I had planned. I told him that the weekend after my birthday I was inviting about 6,000 of my closest friends to a bar to celebrate my birthday, my divorce and the expensive new lumps I added to my chest. When he heard the party was the weekend after my birthday, he told me he had plans to be visiting his daughters in Hawaii that weekend and requested that I consider changing the date to the weekend before my birthday. It didn’t matter to me when it was and I hadn’t invited anyone yet so I switched the date.

The night before, I went to a wedding. If you know me at all, that means I showed up lookin’ like my best version of sexpot, queen of the universe, Sophia Loren, when she was in her prime. After the amount of wine and vodka I consumed at the wedding, I know I left feeling like a million bucks but I’m assuming I more closely resembled Gollum from Harry Potter if you were to put him in a wig and a dress, than Sophia on the red carpet. That didn’t stop me from inviting myself over to my breadcrumber’s house. Not shockingly, he let a drunk girl come over to his place at 1am after attending a wedding.

The next morning I tried to leave to get myself ready for my party but he kept asking me to stay while pulling me in toward him for hugs and forehead kisses. Before I left he ran down the back stairs to remind me to text him when I was getting a Lyft or Uber downtown so he could leave at the same time and get to the party when I did. In my head I just thought, “HA! He’s proving you wrong, 50% of my friends who think he sucks! HA!” I cleaned up and tried not to look like a hideous, dress and wig-clad Gollum, texted him, “heading to Hubbard Inn now” and headed to my party with my friend.

Three hours. We spent three hours there and he never showed up. He never texted. He didn’t call. He didn’t do a thing. Before we left I texted, “I take it you’re not coming?” No response. I had the best time with my friends and went to two more places after leaving that venue. I couldn’t be more thankful that I had so many people around me that night that I love so much but I couldn’t get him out of my head. After the Malort shots kicked in and kicked my ass, my friends walked me home and I passed out gracefully and beautifully like the sweet princess I am. When I woke up in the morning, still moderately intoxicated, I sent him, what he likes to call a “nastygram”. Any time I called him out on his bullshit he claimed I “nastygrammed” him. “You really just enjoy fucking with me, don’t you,” was my nastygram to him this time. Within a minute he responded and explained that he got “a little drunk” that afternoon because the Lions won. He also said that he decided he didn’t really want to show up anyway because I mentioned that some of my friends were not fans of the way he treated me all summer. He “didn’t want to be in a room with a bunch of haters.”

20170524_024345826_iOS

That was it. He proved the other 50% right. They could smell the bullshittery on him from the second they met him in his pink, plaid shorts and Sperrys. He was an overgrown, 39 year old, frat boy and they called it immediately. I got played for months by a guy who wears. Pink. Fucking. Plaid. I couldn’t roll my eyes hard enough after reading his last message. I was done. I knew I didn’t even like him that much. It was all about the cat and mouse game and I just don’t like losing. I also don’t like being wrong and I wanted those “haters” of his to have read him wrong; not me. I lost though. I should have folded after the first time he did something that disappointed me but I kept betting with a losing hand. This time, I promptly fucked off like I should have done months ago. 

 

Fuckboi, bye!
“Delete contact”

 

Not a gentleman

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

The title of this post could apply to the vast majority of the guys on the planet I think but I’m referencing one douche in particular. Also, if I get yelled at by one more of you fuckers for not having a new post up by Monday night like I normally do, I might slap you. I went to a wedding for two good friends of mine Sunday that had the hashtag ‘Malortrimony’. I was told I was falling asleep at Gman afterward and had to be escorted home by my friend. Classy. So I literally could not EVEN on Monday. Death by Malort. I’m back now! Better than ever, so here ya go, you animals!

I matched with Brian in early May, after I got ghosted by Tristan the Christian. In just a few hours I decided Brian was the neediest guy ever. We messaged a lot while I was at my friend’s unicorn-themed birthday party/housewarming. He told me he’s looking for a girl who will text him all the time and commit to seeing him at least once a week. Calm your tits, bro. We haven’t even met yet and most people I know can’t handle seeing me even once a month. At least once a week sounds excessive. He was sending pictures nonstop and requesting that I do the same, which I happily did.

IMG_4843

I didn’t find him particularly attractive now though. All of his pictures on the dating app were older which is a common trend in online dating. The pictures he was sending now were in the moment, in bright sunlight and he looked far older than in his profile pictures. He also was sending me pictures from a funeral in Iowa which was disturbing. I’ve never seen someone look so happy at a funeral. Yuck.

We met not long after matching on Coffee Meets Bagel at Murphy’s for a couple drinks. It was ok but I wasn’t that into him. He was pretty mediocre in every way possible but I was at a point in my life where I thought I should give the basic guys more of a chance. He didn’t seem like he’d be an abusive psycho or cross-dressing sex-addict, which I was used to with most exes. When we left, he put himself in a cab and let me walk home alone at 11pm, despite the fact that I lived on the way to his place. Thanks a lot, winner. Quite the thoughtful guy. I didn’t have plans to see him again ever but he was texting me daily and sometimes I get bored so I usually responded.

One night I was not getting nearly enough dating app attention and I had a rough week. I legitimately wanted to watch a movie and cuddle with someone. I couldn’t remember the last time I cuddled with someone. It had honestly been years. He lived close so I figured I’d give it a shot and see what he said. He was just getting off the train, coming home from work. He said he could be at my place in a couple minutes. I couldn’t believe that actually worked. Surely this guy thinks that something else will be happening. He’d be so disappointed when I rejected his advances. I didn’t care.

We didn’t make it more than 15 minutes into the show I turned on before we were both asleep. We woke up a few hours later and I expected him to leave. Shockingly, he moved to the bedroom with me. “Uh-oh,” I thought, “Here’s where he tries to make a move and I have to send him on his way.” We passed out within seconds. In the morning, he kissed me on the cheek and hugged me goodbye so we could both get ready for work. What planet am I on?! What year is it!? What’s happening!? I met a good guy? Maybe this guy didn’t suck so much. I couldn’t believe the ‘come over and cuddle’ thing worked.

Shortly after this, he had to go away for a couple weeks for some military stuff. It was while he was away for this that things changed and he started sending me sexual messages. They weren’t too weird or perverted at first but it didn’t take long for that to escalate. He got upset after I told him I had gone on dates with other guys since I met him. The next thing I know, this “gentleman” was requesting pictures of nipples and vaginas. I laughed it off and changed the subject every time but he became more and more persistent and angry. He started asking me very personal questions that made me uncomfortable and then obsessively talked about threesomes. He repeatedly brought up the fact that I had gone on dates with people besides him so he knew I was a whore and that’s how he was going to treat me now.

Since when do people become exclusive after meeting one another two times!? What’s wrong with meeting other people when you’re single? This guy clearly has a few screws loose and I had to distance myself ASAP. I’ve had too many guys become obsessive and angry and disrespectful in my lifetime. I can finally see the patterns now and see the red flags right away. It only took, what feels like, a thousand fucking years. I have no more time to deal with assholes who want to degrade or control women because of their own anger issues or insecurities. I have no more patience to be kind and give someone the benefit of the doubt or any more than one chance. No forgives and forgets and no regrets. I wished him luck scoring some chicks for his threesome and started swiping around for my next cuddle buddy.

Boats and Oats

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

It was hot and muggy as hell and I had a hangover that was debilitating. I might as well sit around in my underwear and swipe around. I was losing my energy and excitement with these apps. Now it was just a way to turn my brain off and relax. The profiles have all become boring. No one was really catching my eye anymore. I was sick of talking for weeks with people I’ve never met and then still never meeting. I was more sick of matching with guys and then never talking to them at all. What’s the point!? I matched with about 10 guys this particular night and initiated conversation with all of them. Entertain me, monkeys!

One guy stood out and we typed some bullshit back and forth for a while and then he asked me to come hang out with him on his boat. It wasn’t happening. There was no way I was putting on pants or makeup to meet this dude at 11:30pm. On his boat. Alone. No thanks, bruh. My first thought was just that I’m lazy and don’t feel like it. My next thoughts were that he wanted to drug me and drown me. Maybe he’s a roofie and rape kinda guy? I don’t know but I also didn’t want to find out. If we were going to meet it was going to now be in a well-lit, public place and I’ll have a chaperone and possibly armed bodyguards and a camera crew. Just in case. We agreed tonight was not the night so he offered the idea of breakfast in the morning as an alternative. That was a strong maybe.

skin suit.JPG

Early the next morning he messaged me again. I told him I was going for a run by the lake when I woke up so he told me the exact directions and code to get to his boat. He wanted me to come hang out, drenched in sweat on his boat at 8 in the morning?? Why? That sounds horrible for everyone. He attempted to entice me with the promise of oatmeal and black coffee. Prison food?! Come on! When you say “breakfast” to me I’m thinking eggs and potatoes with hot sauce and mimosas with no bottoms. Also, I pictured us meeting at a restaurant. Why has this guy not left his fucking boat all night? I told him that as tempting as a bowl of mush accompanied by instant black coffee sounded, I wasn’t coming. I had to work after this run anyway.

Halfway through my work day I had a quick break and checked my phone. This guy sent me a message asking if I needed a client today. “Need” a client? The question that most people ask me is, “Is there any way you can fit me in?” I’m never in need of bodies in my chair at the salon. I tell him this and he responded with a picture of his mullet. Ok, ok, it’s a fucking emergency. I get it. I tell him I can squeeze him in at the end of my day. I didn’t tell him the name of my salon so I wasn’t expecting him to actually show up. Homeboy did some research and walked in at 8:30. Everyone was confused. The receptionists had no idea anyone else was coming since I never put him on the schedule and I was just wondering how the hell he knew which salon I worked in! This guy is a stalker AND a drugger and drowner. Cool.

He was huge. Each of his arms were the size of both of my thighs. His t-shirt was too tight on his big man-boobs. He was ridiculously tan and that hair was wild. “I can’t believe you actually fucking showed up,” was exactly how I greeted him and then walked him back to my chair in the back corner of the salon to get to work on removing this mullet. He sounded like he was a long-lost member of the Jersey Shore cast when he talked, which I obviously made fun of him for. He’s got to be used to that. I gave him the same treatment I give my clients; a great haircut, shampoo and hot towel with a heaping amount of sarcasm, shit-talking and teasing. I don’t know why anyone comes back to me, honestly.

Since I’ve never had a guy from a dating app show up for a haircut for a first “date” I had no idea if I should charge him for the cut or not. I decided it felt weird so I told him the first cut is free but now he had to buy me a couple drinks now that he was presentable enough to be seen with me in public. Fair? We sat in the beer garden at Sheffield’s for a couple and he told me all about his adventures in real estate. It was riveting. I found out though that he actually lives in the suburbs most of the year but in the summer he lives on his boat. I’m a sucker for weirdos and boats though so I’m ok with all of this. He’d be fun to hang out with for the summer but once he heads back to the ‘burbs I’ll be all, “New phone, who dis??” I don’t drive and I don’t want to go to his village.

The beer garden was shutting down but I could do one more tequila and soda so I brought him to my dive. (If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might think I live at Nisei. I don’t think I’ve slept there but I can’t be entirely sure. I do go there a lot.) On our walk over, I tell him my friend Dave is working. I’ve known Dave for 8 years and he’s seen every loser I ever dated for longer than a month. Dave used to feed me Jameson and Miller Lites at Nick’s Uptown before they closed. Now he feeds me tequila mixed drinks, Bud Light and Malort. I’ve gotten classier. Pinkies up! Now that this guy knows how dear Dave is to me, we walk in to the bar. No one else is there but Dave is behind the bar. Immediately upon introduction, Dave tells us a long story about threesomes and lots of alcohol. The details I’ll leave out. Thanks for helping me make a great first impression with this guy I just met, Dave! I should have known better and I probably should keep Tinder and Bumble dates away from anyone I know. Forever.

Thankfully another patron came in and Dave was distracted so I could change the subject. I still can’t clearly remember what we were talking about but something I said made this guy lean back, with his double thigh-sized arms crossed in front of his big man boobs, and he smirked. “You were friends with the guy who got shot about a month ago,” he said. I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, replaying the conversation we just had in my head to figure out what I said that would lead him to say this. I still haven’t figured it out. An acquaintance had recently been murdered and days before this, he had asked me to meet up for drinks and to catch up. Everyone who knew him admits he was a great, fun guy but he also was sketchy in “business” deals. Gambling, stealing, lying and drugs were a big part of his life so I always kept my distance. The relief I felt for not hanging out with him before he died outweighed the guilt.

My date then goes into detail about how he also knew my friend and started to talk about how and why he was killed. Conversation ends here. I wanted no part in this. I didn’t want to know details. I didn’t want to know anyone who knows more than what was in the news. He insinuated that he not only buys and sells houses and buildings but he buys and sells drugs as well and has a shit ton of people working for him on this. I’m done, oatmeal boat guy. I’d advise you to eat something besides that while you’re still a free man because I’m sure you’ll have plenty of bowls of mush in prison. I’m not going to be all Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface for you, even though I thought I would do anything for her wardrobe. Adios, Tony Montana! I’m not sticking around to see how this all ends.